Who Do You Think You Are?
by Alexannah
Summary: Half blood? Wrong. Muggleborn? Wrong again. The Boy Who Lived ... a Muggle? HP and Lovejoy Crossover, can easily be read with no knowledge of the show LJCC ADMM
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary:** Half blood? Wrong. Dumbledore discovers Harry was adopted and his birth parents were Muggles. Muggleborn? Wrong again. Harry's magic vanishes along with the charms that made him look like the Potters. Muggle? Help!_

**Rating:** PG, subject to change

**Warnings:** None that I can think of, looking at my plan, but watch this space just in case

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Lovejoy, Sam and Charlotte belong to someone else – I don't know who, because not only are there Lovejoy books but ITV is running the show that the BBC did originally. Let's just say I don't own anything other than the plot, OK?

**Author's Notes:** YOU DON'T NEED TO BE FAMILIAR WITH LOVEJOY TO READ THIS FIC: even though it is technically a crossover, anything people unfamiliar with the show won't know will be explained to Harry anyway.  
Set post-OotP, the fic will circle around Harry in the magical and Muggle worlds. To Albus lovers: our dear headmaster will have a main part. Yippee!  
I know this first chapter's short. But I have a solid plan that is better plotted than the vast majority of my posted fics, so hopefully this one will be easier to write. (Is it just me or have I said that before …?)  
I would have expanded on this chapter but really, I'm writing so many post-OotP fics it's unbelievably hard not to include the same stuff over and over again. So I kept the beginning brief. Plus, I wrote this quite late so if the sentence structure or whatever seems less-than-best then that's why.

-----

**Who Do You Think You Are?**

By Alexannah

**Chapter One  
**  
Harry's eyes were closing as he counted down the seconds till midnight. At twelve seconds to he yawned. At seven seconds to he had to force his eyes open again. At five seconds to he had to wrench himself out of his sleepy state. On the stroke of midnight, he fell asleep anyway.

Harry didn't stir until his alarm went off the next morning. Groaning, he fumbled around for the clock to switch it off before it woke the already highly wound up Dursleys.

"Where are you?" he grumbled, raising his head off the pillow. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and stared around.

His vision was perfect. And he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Well, that's odd," he muttered, then upon spotting the alarm clock on the floor he stooped to pick it up.

A fringe of hair fell into his face and he froze. It wasn't black.

The alarm still going off but not having any attention paid to it, Harry hurried to the mirror faster than should have been humanely possible and took a good, long look at his reflection.

His scar was still on his forehead.

Nothing else was the same.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, frozen to the spot, before a banging on the door jerked him out of his shock. "BOY!"

The door burst open, but Harry hadn't moved.

"Turn that ruddy alarm off boy, or –_ What the -?_"

Vernon and Petunia froze too, in the doorway, gaping at Harry. Petunia was the first to react.

"It's today. I forgot."

Harry rounded on her. "_What_ did you forget???"

She flinched and stepped backwards. "Don't, it's not my fault! You looked so like that bloody Potter it was only natural I didn't have it in mind -"

"Didn't have _what_ in mind?"

"Don't talk like that to your aunt, boy!"

"I'm not," Petunia said, shocking both Harry and Vernon into silence.

"Not what?" Harry said weakly when he found his voice.

"Your aunt."

The quiet that followed those words was the loudest Harry had ever experienced. Petunia finally broke it.

"Vernon, leave us please."

"But -"

"_Please_, Vernon."

Harry's uncle turned and stormed out of the room. Petunia shut the door sharply behind him.

"What do you mean, you're not my aunt?" Harry burst out. "My mum was your sister!"

"No she wasn't," Petunia said quietly. "Lily was my sister, yes, but she wasn't your mother."

"But – how -" For a minute Harry could only stammer.

"When you were born we were still on speaking terms … just. Your mother was one of her close friends, a Charlotte Cavendish. She died the day you were born and my sister adopted you. Her and her husband cast – spells – on you to make you look like their own."

Harry was stunned into silence. Petunia sat, patiently for her, waiting for him to take it in before she carried on.

"What they cast was supposed to stay on till your sixteenth birthday. I don't know who in your world knew about this, but no-one ever spoke of it to me after that. I can't really tell you much about your parents – I think they were engaged but the wedding was cancelled for some reason … I do know that your father was some kind of antiques dealer and that he was and probably is unaware of your existence …"

The only thing that registered with Harry was the present tense.

"You mean … my father's alive?" he said weakly. "I've got a living relative?"

"As far as I know he's alive."

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. "I need to write a letter."

"Harry …" Petunia said nervously.

"Can we talk later?" Harry said quietly. She nodded and left the room.

_Professor Dumbledore -_

Something really strange has happened – Don't worry, I'm not in danger – and I want an explanation. It figures you knew about it and didn't tell me.

Harry Potter

A little blunt perhaps, and not the most polite of letters, but it got the point across which was what Harry wanted. He sent Hedwig off with the note and sat down on his bed to wait.

-----

Petunia had tried to make Harry eat, but he wouldn't. He didn't move from his bed until later that night. Presents and cards had arrived from his friends but he hadn't even moved to open them.

It was getting dark when the doorbell rang, and Harry jumped off the bed. He paused and clutched the headboard for a moment – the sudden movement after the stillness had made him go dizzy – but as soon as it had passed he heard the voices downstairs cease and someone was making their way hurriedly up to his room.

"'Lo, Professor," Harry said quietly.

"Harry?" Dumbledore breathed, entering the room slowly. "Is that you?"

Harry nodded, slowly registering the shock on Dumbledore's face. "Can you explain this?" He gestured to his face.

Dumbledore spent several minutes just gaping at him, before shaking himself out of his shock. "I … Your aunt just told me … I can't …"

"You didn't know?" Harry said incredulously.

Dumbledore seemed to pull himself together, and closed his mouth. "I … I had no idea."

To his surprise, Harry believed he was telling the truth. Silence fell in the room and he sank slowly back onto his bed.

"I honestly had no idea," Dumbledore said again, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I assure you that I would have told you had I known you were adopted."

The word still crashed over Harry like a wave of cold water, shocking even though he was already wet through.

"Like you told me about the prophecy?" he said rather bitterly after a pause.

Dumbledore hung his head. "I suppose I deserve that."

"No you didn't," Harry mumbled. "Sorry."

"Did your aunt say anything about … your parents?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

"A bit," Harry murmured. "Enough to track my father down … with help." He looked up at his headmaster hopefully.

Dumbledore saw the look and a smile spread across his face. "I believe I could aid you with that. Tell me what you know …"

**TBC …**

**AN:** I know, short, and not my best work. I intend to go back and expend it a bit, and rewrite any bots that don't flow. But it's late now and I want to get this started!

_**Note about reviewing:** Please do not review simply to tell me to update. I update when I can and that is the end to it. I have RL commitments and I'm only human – you can't expect my muse to always co-operate. Plus I have about a zillion other fics to work on. So if you review, make it worth the review alert please. And any flamers will regret the day they discovered fanfiction. Thank you for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Summary:**__ Half blood? Wrong. Dumbledore discovers Harry was adopted and his birth parents were Muggles. Muggleborn? Wrong again. Harry's magic vanishes along with the charms that made him look like the Potters. Muggle? Help! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ Harry Potter belongs to JKR. Lovejoy, Sam and Charlotte belong to someone else – I don't know who, because not only are there Lovejoy books but ITV is running the show that the BBC did originally. Let's just say I don't own anything other than the plot, OK? _

_**Author's Notes:**__ Yay I got a review!!!!! Thanks ImSoMMAD!_

-----

**Chapter Two**

Petunia stopped in the doorway, staring at the chaos in the room. "Um … Headmaster? Your tea."

Dumbledore looked up. "Oh, excellent," he said cheerfully, taking it from her. "Thank you, Petunia."

"You don't want a drink do you?" she directed at Harry. Harry shook his head, his eyes still on the paperwork.

"Then … I'll leave you to it," she said quietly, before turning and leaving.

Harry let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "This will take forever."

"It shouldn't do," Dumbledore murmured, sipping his tea. "Ouch, that's hot. There have been very few people to attend Hogwarts with the name Cavendish while I've been teaching. Of course, it's entirely possible that your parent or parents left before I started … but as I started in 1941, it's more likely to have been after, especially if your mother and Lily were friends."

Harry nodded, not quite following. "The problem is we don't know for sure they were _both_ wizards. Neither do we know if that was my mum's maiden name or not." He threw aside the volume he'd been perusing. "So looking up the name Cavendish in old school records …"

"May well be a red herring, but it's the best place to start," Dumbledore said firmly. "Are you done with that one?"

"Yes. Can I ask why we're searching through old Hogwarts yearbooks?"

"You were the one who pointed out this discovery was best kept a secret until we know more," Dumbledore replied, handing him a new volume. "Going through Ministry records would attract too much attention."

Harry bit a hangnail nervously. "Aunt Petunia said that my father was an antiques dealer, or something." He looked up at Dumbledore. "Doesn't that sound a bit of an odd profession for a wizard?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Plenty of wizards take on Muggle careers. There's just not enough opportunities with the wizarding society for a lot of people's tastes, especially the more artistic ones."

"Could a wizard really have a proper career in the Muggle world?" Harry asked curiously. "I mean, being at Hogwarts means they'd miss out on a load of important education, so they'd be really behind."

"The Muggles have a much better system to us, because there are far more of them. They have far more opportunities to go back and re-learn and re-take exams and so on. And with their technology growing so fast, it's much easier for them to learn it – I believe they can be sent work using their computers and send it back the same way once it's done, so they don't even need to leave the house."

"Wow," Harry murmured. "They really are better off from that point of view."

Dumbledore smiled. "The wizarding world I'm afraid is sadly lacking in that area." He stifled a yawn. "If wizards could master computers then education would be a whole lot better."

"Hermione told me that electrical stuff goes haywire round Hogwarts," Harry murmured, turning a page. "I suppose there isn't a way to get round that?"

"The governors don't think so, and many of them are old-fashioned purebloods who look down their nose at Muggle inventions anyway. But I've always had the belief there's a possible way to make the technology actually run on magic rather than electricity … I've just never had the opportunity to test the theory."

Harry brightened. "Maybe once Voldemort's gone that could be my new life project."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You wouldn't have the time either if you made it as an Auror – which I am sure you will."

"I don't know," Harry said slowly. "I think I could, it's just … when I talked to Professor McGonagall about my career I didn't know about the prophecy then. Now, I guess once I'm through with Voldemort – assuming I'm still alive by then – I'll want a break from fighting Dark wizards. So I don't know what I want to do."

"Well, you have plenty of time to decide," Dumbledore encouraged, trying and failing to stifle another yawn.

"Tired, Professor?" Harry teased.

"Just a little. I was up half the night."

"Ditto," Harry muttered, yawning himself. "You've set me off now."

"Sorry."

-----

Half an hour later, Harry and Dumbledore had been through every Hogwarts yearbook since 1940 and made a list of every Cavendish that had attended the school, whether it was their proper name or if they'd married into the family. Dumbledore had then gone down the list, crossing off the ones that didn't fit the little information they had. Now the only ones they had left were wizard-Muggle marriages. So Harry, inspired by their earlier conversation, made a suggestion:

The Internet.

"NO! I'M NOT LETTING _HIM_ USE MY COMPUTER!"

"But Diddykins -"

"Don't worry Aunt Petunia, we're going to use the library," Harry said loudly, putting on his cloak, which Dumbledore had transfigured into an ordinary coat.

The bus ride was uneventful. Dumbledore, looking to Harry rather strange in Muggle clothes, was reading _The Telegraph_ over the shoulder of the Muggle in front of them. Harry sat by the window, staring at his reflection in the window.

His hair, which had once been black and insisted on sticking up, now lay completely flat in a dark blonde colour. His eyes were blue-grey rather than the green he was used to. He stared at the unfamiliar face, wondering what his father would look like if he was still alive. Would they be recognisably family? Or did Harry take after his mother?

A tap on his shoulder made him start.

"Sorry Harry," Dumbledore apologised. "It's our stop."

Harry shook himself out of it and they disembarked.

-----

"Try this one – John Cavendish, Hogwarts class of 1956, married a Muggle. Born 1938 in Croydon."

Harry's fingers were aching as he typed the date and place into the boxes. Within an hour they had narrowed down the list of twenty possibilities to three. Dumbledore sat patiently waiting for the page to load, the end of a ballpoint pen in his mouth.

"Nope," he said at last. Dumbledore crossed off the name.

"That was the last one to cross off," Harry said happily. "Now we're left with three. So … what now?"

Dumbledore looked down at their shortlist. "We contact the ones left."

Harry yawned. "Tomorrow. I'm tired." He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

"Harry …"

"Mm?"

"Why didn't we try -?" Dumbledore leaned across to the keyboard and typed in Cavendish plus antiques in the search bar.

"That'll give us hundreds of results," Harry said sleepily.

"Worth a try." Dumbledore clicked on "Go".

Harry didn't expect anything useful to come up at once, but when Dumbledore sat up straight, suddenly wide awake, he knew they'd got lucky.

"Cavendish Auction House, from 1973. Original owner Sam Cavendish … Became Cavendish _and Son_ in 1978."

"And Son?"

"Bingo! The 'son' was Charlotte Cavendish!"

Harry nearly fell off the chair in his hurry to see the screen. "Do a search on her."

"Hold on … Charlotte Lucy Cavendish, daughter of Sam and Lucy Cavendish, born 1945, died … July 31st, 1980."

Harry suddenly had trouble breathing. "That's her. That's my mum. It has to be." He suddenly felt tears in his eyes. "Is there a picture?" he asked thickly.

Dumbledore didn't answer straight away. Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve, his vision clearing.

"Here," Dumbledore said at last.

For a moment Harry couldn't bring himself to look. When his gaze finally fell on the screen, he was finally greeted with an image of a young woman.

She was quite pretty, with shoulder-length blonde hair and he couldn't see her eye colour properly in the photo but he imagined it to be the same as his: grey-blue. In the photo she was wearing an official-looking suit, gold earrings and a beautiful smile.

For a long moment Harry couldn't speak.

"That's her," he finally croaked. Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder.

"What now?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I guess … her dad … Sam Cavendish … is our best option." He swallowed. "Look him up."

Twenty minutes later they were rewarded with an address of an old people's home outside London. After carefully writing it out and triple-checking it, Harry flicked back to the photo of his mother.

"Excuse me." They looked up to see one of the librarians standing next to them. "We're looking to close in a few minutes."

"We're just finished," Dumbledore said quietly, looking back at Harry. "Harry?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't realised how late it had become or how tired he was. Dumbledore picked up their coats and prepared to leave.

"Wait."

Harry clicked on "Print".

**TBC … **

**AN: **I know … it wouldn't be half that easy in real life … but isn't fiction supposed to be filled with coincidences? (Though I just call it Fate.)

**Review Responses**

**ImSoMMAD:** Yay my first review! Keep reviewing every chapter please because I have a feeling I may not get very many reviewers for this fic! Lovejoy's a great show, it's running on ITV3 at the moment in the UK – it was first running in about the 80s, so it's not particularly well known to the younger generation – I only know it because my mum persuaded me to watch it (it was one of her favourites). Um, I put ADMM in the summary, but it's not going to be a big thing, just a subplot, really. Hehe, Albus is for once clueless. I like that too.

Thanks also to **Crazy-Pyscho** for reviewing!


End file.
